


Protected

by sebachristian (spongology)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blindness, Bucky Barnes is a good protector, F/M, For a bit anyway, I don't know what to tag this with, It's my first fanfiction, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut, Sorry again, Stalking, Swearing, THE EXPLICIT STUFF ISN'T IN IT YET GUYS, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, actual tears of blood, crying blood, i'll stop now, no porn yet though, only in one eye though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spongology/pseuds/sebachristian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handsome stranger approaches the reader one night, and looks after them, after telling the reader they're being followed. When things go downhill, Bucky Barnes has to admit to who he used to be, and Steve Rogers is always there to help the reader.<br/>(Okay I know that sucked but what makes you think I know how to summarise?)<br/>***<br/>Or the fic in which Bucky and the reader are living together and then the reader is kidnapped, she's tortured, and then feelings with Bucky and Steve ensue.<br/>(Does that make more sense?)<br/>CURRENTLY ON HOLD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Followed

“Not to worry you, but there’s a man following you.”

_Really?!_ Seriously, as if walking, alone, in Brooklyn at night wasn’t bad enough, some dweeb had decided he was going to follow you. You turned to the man who was now walking slightly behind you. You raised an eyebrow.

“Who are you?”

He smiled brightly, and embraced you as if you two were old pals. _The hell?_ His arms wrapped around your middle and his body, considerably taller than your own, cushioned your head. He bent slightly and whispered in your ear.

“Look over my shoulder. There’s a man dressed in black. He’s been following you for the past ten minutes.” You stilled. Sure enough, there was a man calmly standing next to a nearby phone booth, as if waiting, but he was observing you.

The man disentangled himself from your body. “Link arms with me.”

You nodded mutely, and he smoothly slipped his arm through yours, and you continued walking. He was smiling broadly, and turned to face you.

“We need to pretend to know each other. He’s unlikely to do anything if I’m with you. It’s still pretty busy, so he may not have done anything anyway, but he won’t now.” You nodded again, noting the calm, collected way the man spoke. You pretended to laugh at what he said and grinned.

He looked over his shoulder. “He’s getting nearer. We need to draw attention to ourselves.”

You raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

“If anything _did_ happen to you, most people wouldn’t care or react because there’s nothing special about you. If you become a small spectacle, then you are in a spotlight, and people would react. Got it?” He was still smiling, but his eyes were sharp and focused on the man in black.

Again, you laughed and said something nonsensical back. It was odd, acting as if this stranger was your friend.

“Kiss me.”

Your head whipped round and you blinked uncomprehendingly him.

“ _What_?!”

“Kiss me. I has to be convincing, I’m sorry. He’s getting nearer. Spotlight, remember?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You know what, I probably am just walking the same way as that man. You’re sick, you know? First, you try to convince me I’m in danger, and now you think you can just-“

You were cut off by warm lips covering your own, cutting you off mid-rant. Your eyes widened, and you froze. His lips were soft and unbearably pleasant, and you forgot whatever it was that had been bothering you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you leant into the tall, handsome figure in front of you. You moaned slightly and wound your hands in his long hair.

“ _Get a room_!” was yelled from a passing stranger, but most people chuckled and brushed past you in the narrow street.

He pulled back and you opened your eyes. He wasn’t dazed or extremely turned on, as you were, but focused again on the figure in black.

“We need to move. Now.” He had a touch of urgency in his voice that snapped you out of your daze. The two of you once again linked arms and set off at a brisk pace.

“Where do you live?” You muttered your address and turned slightly. The street was rapidly emptying and the man was definitely following you.

After five or so minutes, you arrived at your apartment. You fumbled in your bag for the keys and turned to you guardian. “Thanks. I’ll be okay now.”

He shook his head slightly. “He knows where you live. If he wanted to rob you, he would’ve given up already. I think I should stay with you. I have military training.”

You nodded almost imperceptibly, but he grinned. “Invite me in. And make it believable.”

Turning your mind to the kiss, you bit your lip, mentally groaning at what you were about to do. “Babe, why don’t we finish what we started? Come in.” You leaned flirtatiously against the door, your voice dripping with want and suggestiveness.

He looked over your shoulder at the figure, and smirked. “Sure thing.”

Again, you found yourself entangled in this man’s arms, his soft lips on yours. You moaned loudly, deliberately, and pulled away. You struggled with the keys, your back to the man. His mouth left kisses along your neck, and his hands rubbed your hips. You blushed, furiously trying to fit the keys into the lock, but your hands were shaking, partly from fear and partly from arousal.

Large hands enveloped your own and pushed the keys into the lock and opened the door. His lips were once again on your own and the two of you stumbled through the door. The minute you entered the dark hallway, he broke away from you and shut the door and latched the chain.

You were breathing heavily, and tried to look unaffected by the handsome man in front of you. He, meanwhile, was striding along your hallway. He disappeared into your dining room.

You caught your breath and followed him. He had shut your blinds, but was peeking through them. He gestured to you, and you slowly walked up to him. You looked through the blind. Directly outside your house, the man in the black suit was leaning against a lamppost. He was speaking into a phone, and an assault rifle was now in his hands.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Oh my God.”

Handsome turned to you. “Like I said, if he was following you for money, he would’ve given up. You pissed anyone off lately?”

You shrugged, trying to think about any big enemies you could have made. _Shit._

“What?” Handsome was looking at you.

“I, uh, I might have accidentally corrupted my last boss.” You shuffled uncomfortably.

Handsome raised an eyebrow. “Accidentally?”

You sighed. “I was working for this guy. He owned this corporation that’s really big in Russia. I was just his secretary, and I was lead to believe he ran a load of banks. One day, this letter came through for him. As usual, I opened it and checked that it was something he needed to see. It was in Russian, and I didn’t know what any of it meant, so I was about to put it aside and my boss appeared. I handed the letter to him, but he could see I’d opened it. He knocked me out. Slammed my head against the table – I’ve still got a scar from where my filing tray hit me on the way down.” You lifted your hair, and, just behind the hairline, there was a small scar. “He fired me after that.”

“So how did you accidentally corrupt this guy?”

“I started digging. Although I didn’t understand the Russian, I’d managed to read a name. Dmitri Volkov. I looked him up. He owns every rich person in Russia. Once someone reaches five million, he starts blackmailing them. He’s the biggest name in the black market, and owns most of the Russian mafia. Turned out that my boss had been selling him arms. Not just small guns, but grenade launchers, machine guns, flamethrowers.

“I was angry. I wanted everyone to know that this ‘saint’ in the world of banking was actually part of the mafia. So I sold him out. I tried to anonymously send it to the police, but he found out. Started threatening me. But he went quiet a year ago. This is obviously some big plan.”

Handsome moved across the room to sit down on a chair. “So he wants you dead. Wants to get rid of any evidence. Did the police get the information?”

You nodded. “Yeah, and they shut his company down.”

Handsome looked hard at you. “That guy isn’t going to be going away anytime soon. As I said, I’ve got training, and I have a feeling you won’t be able to go anywhere on your own for a while. Would you allow me to stay with you? I can go if you want, and I’ll call the authorities if you want me to. Your choice, doll.”

You attempted to smother a blush that was rising in your cheeks. _Doll._ You mentally shook yourself. You nodded and tried to smile. “I’d appreciate some help. Thanks, mister.”

Handsome gave a small smile. “James. My name’s James.”


	2. Protected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader learns about James' arm

It was surprisingly fun, pretending to have a boyfriend. All your closest friends were suddenly dying to meet up, your aunts and uncles asking you round for dinner, old relationships suddenly started talking to you again.

James always came with you, wherever you went. Each time you went to the shops, he was there. If you went for a walk, he would offer to carry an umbrella. Even if you were putting the rubbish outside, he was always waiting in the doorway.

Not that you didn’t enjoy it; James was breath-takingly gorgeous. Shoulder-length brown hair, sharp, oceanic eyes and full lips. His body was crushingly handsome and you struggled not to jump him when you caught him coming out of your shower – he was only wearing a towel around his waist.

You noticed that various packages had begun to arrive for him during his stay. A small pile of cardboard boxes was growing in front the sofa that he slept on. You knew that some of the boxes contained clothes.

One day, intrigued, you padded over to where the boxes were. He was showering, so you figured he wouldn’t catch you. Opening the box, you found it was full of knives, grenades and guns.

"I had some things dropped off. They're for protection, I swear.”

You whirled round to find James standing in the doorway, a towel loosely draped on his hips. Rivulets of water were running down the peaks and valleys of the muscles in his chest, all falling towards the v that was partially hidden by his towel. Your eyes studied the join between his flesh and the metal joints that made up his left arm. You wanted to reach out and smooth over the rough skin.

"HYDRA."

His silky voice shook you out of your thoughts, and you realised that you had subconsciously moved nearer to him, and your fingers were now gliding over the join between metal and flesh. You dropped your arm and stepped away, blushing slightly.

"What's HYDRA?"

He sighed, moving over to his pile of clothing. He selected a long-sleeved green T-shirt. The dog-tag he wore around his neck glinted. You'd supposed he had been in the army at some point, but you never wanted to bring it up.

"A sort of terrorist organisation. Idealists, but extreme. They see a world of perfect humans, but believe they have to destroy our current world to create it. They captured me whilst I was on a... mission... and experimented on me. This is the result, but it's not too bad. I can still feel, and it's great for lifting things."

So he was in an armed force then, you thought. You paused for a second and then said, "Wasn't HYDRA the corporation that captured Captain America? I thought they didn't exist anymore."

"They still have their followers. And yeah, that's what the History books say."

He pulled the top over his head and his hair fell in front of his face. You resisted the urge to rush forward and brush it out of the way, but you didn't. Whilst still being pleasant and friendly, he had made it clear that the romance was just a façade and he wasn't romantically interested.

He coughed pointedly and you realised he was attempting to get changed, but you were invading his privacy. You blushed and quickly walked into the kitchen. You leant against the counter and groaned slightly _. This man will be the death of me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all clear on the fact James = Bucky? Good. Also, sorry this is so short, but I felt that this fic needed a bit of padding out, so I figured I'd use their homely life as an excuse! Feel free to comment and if you have criticisms, be nice!


	3. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which we learn about the meal rota and the man in the suit gets creepy.

After three weeks, the two of you were definitely getting used to each other. You no longer hesitated to clean his clothes (although the boxers always brought a blush) and he was happy to make dinner. It hadn't occurred to you that he could cook, but he could whip up a great meal.

He was by no means a five star chef, but he could make brilliant ravioli, curry and homemade soups. You loved his fajitas as well, but you'd decided to make a meal rota, and that meant fajitas every Sunday.

**Monday - soup - James**

**Tuesday - left over soup/fish and chips - (Y/N)**

**Wednesday - curry - James and (Y/N)**

**Thursday - left over curry/salad/Thai takeaway - (Y/N)**

**Friday - ravioli - James**

**Saturday - pizza - (Y/N)**

**Sunday - fajitas - James**

Saturday was also movie night, and you picked alternately. You always went for mysteries or romance, but James liked comedies or movies from the 40s. He always found modern film so confusing, and you were constantly explaining the plots.

You never watched action films. The first, and last, time you did, James was tense and on edge the whole time. At a particularly violent part, he even left the room, saying he needed a drink.

He never slept either. Or, at least, it didn't seem like it. You once had passed him on your way to the kitchen (your apartment was open-plan, so you had to walk through the living room to get from your bedroom to your kitchen), and he'd just been sat, watching through the window, a knife playing in his hands. He'd actually creeped you out a bit; a solitary figure on your couch, a weapon ready in his hands. Then he'd noticed you looking at him, and grinned.

The boyfriend façade was great, but it meant you found yourself falling for him, hard. Every Tuesday, or Thursday, or Saturday, when you went to get food from the store, he would accompany you, and he would kiss you, and run his hands over you. He was never affected, but you were always left breathless and hungry for more.

The man in the black suit was always outside your house. He never came nearer than the lamppost, and his gun wasn't always in his hand, but, knowing your old boss, the gun was probably concealed elsewhere.

One night, you and James came home from the store with a Thai takeaway, only to find the man leaning against the lamppost.

"Evening." He never spoke before.

You stilled, but James was in control. "Nice night. You waiting for someone?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, I got a friend comin' in from Boston."

James smiled. "Have fun. I don't need any more company; I've got my girl." He smiled down at you, and you managed a small smile back. James leaned down and kissed you quickly.

The two of you started back towards the house. The man's voice followed you.

"Full moon tonight. Lock your doors, you never know what monsters might be lurking. You keep an eye on your girl."

You scrambled inside as quickly as possible, James locked the door and you shut all your windows and blinds. You were shaking.

"W-was that a warning?"

James strode over to you and put his arms in your shoulders. "Don't worry. I'm here and I'll keep an eye out."

***

A few hours later, after you and James had filled yourselves with Thai food, you were restlessly trying to sleep. You could see the faint outline of James on your couch, and you were calmed by his watchfulness. You fell into a dreamless sleep.

James was worried. The man in the suit had been talking to another man, who was bigger and stronger. He was carrying an assault rifle as well, and James could see the outlines of more guns underneath the jacket. James had a gun strapped to his leg and three knives concealed elsewhere around his body.

The men weren't doing anything but talking, but James surveyed them still. His thoughts turned to you. You'd been so scared, so vulnerable. Sometimes, whilst you were sleeping, he'd come into your room and pull up your blanket, or adjust your pillow. You always looked so calm, so peaceful, so beautiful. The relationship that he had to play was killing him, and he wanted to be able to kiss you whenever he liked, but he knew that was out of the question.

James was so buried in thought that he failed to notice that the two men had disappeared. He failed to hear the lock turning on the door. He did, however, hear the men coming down the hallway. He cocked his gun and moved next to the door to your apartment. The first man had been expecting it, and immediately whirled on James, attacking him with a knife and throwing as many punches as possible. The other man was making his way over to your bedroom. James grabbed his assailant and rammed his head into the wall. He was knocked unconscious immediately.

James launched himself at the giant and wrapped an arm around his neck. The man grabbed it and slammed James onto the floor. James spun and knocked him over, using his legs to lift the man's feet out from under him.

Meanwhile, the other man had come to, and was trying to run into your bedroom, but James noticed and quickly pulled out his gun and shot the man in the leg. He fell to his knees and cried out.

You awoke at the sound of a gunshot. You sat up in bed and saw James fighting two men, one on his knees and the other getting up. You froze, and then grabbed the nearest object to you and ran to help James.

You figured the man with the bullet in his leg probably wasn't going anywhere soon, but the big man was rushing for James, who wasn't by any means helpless, but you wanted to do something. You shouted to get the man's attention from James and tried to slam your heavy alarm clock on his head. This wasn't easy, as the man was enormous, and much taller than you, and he also saw the clock coming, and caught you wrist. You gasped in pain as his hand started crushing your wrist. James paused and ran at the man, only to be tackled by the other one.

The man holding your wrist prised the clock from your grip and threw it at the wall, where it shattered. You struggled, trying to get free and trying to kick him, but he seemed immune to any contact you made. He brought you to the edge of the room and grabbed the side of your face.

He grinned wickedly. You saw he had lost numerous teeth and this just made him more fearsome. You could hear James scrabbling with the other man and you tried to call out, but the man holding your wrist let you go and instead grabbed you by the throat. You tried to shout, but only a gargled whisper came out. Your eyes widened in fear.

"Sorry, princess." The man grinned again, and slammed your head against the wall. He did it several times, and the last thing you heard before you blacked out was James shouting your name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I right these out in Word, they always look so long, but on here the chapters look so short :( tell me if they're too short, I'm happy to pad them out a bit more! Does it have the right level of tension etc? Please let me know if you think I should change anything!


	4. Hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader is tortured and sight becomes a little more difficult.  
> ***  
> If you don't like violence, skip this chapter; I'll summarise at the beginning of the next one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has torture in it... I hope it's not awful (I'm not too good at writing violence!). Here's what all the Russian means (It might not be perfect Russian because I used Google Translate!):  
> Privet, vashe vysochestvo = Hello, your highness  
> Vashe vysochestvo = Your highness  
> Koroleva = Queen  
> Koshmar = Nightmare  
> Malyshka = Baby/little girl  
> Krasotka = Beautiful girl  
> Ochen' umnyy, soldat = Very clever, soldier  
> Vy delayete khorosho, koroleva = You are doing well, queen  
> Suka = Bitch/slut  
> Oni zdes. Oni prikhodyat dlya neye = They are here. They have come for her.  
> Ya proshu proshcheniya = I am sorry

You winced in the bright light that was flooding the room you were in. Having only just woken from your pain induced sleep, you were unprepared for the uncomfortable wooden chair and the sparse room with broken blinds and a fan on the on the ceiling.

You started blinking furiously in an attempt to aid your burning pupils. Only then did you notice the man stood by the window. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a bald head.

You tried to take in your surroundings. There was a chair directly in front of you. Beside the chair was a gun and a knife. The mustard paint on the walls was peeling, and in places, the bone of the wall was poking through.

You tried to see the entrance way, but groaned in pain. Moving your head hurt like a bitch, and your body wasn't in much better shape. The man at the windows turned at the sound of your groan. You groaned again as you realised your hand were bound behind the chair and your feet were tied to the chair legs.

" _Privet, vashe vysochestvo_."

You glared at the man. He moved away from the window and sat lazily in the chair opposite you.

He had an ugly scar across his left eye that ran from just above his eyebrow to his top lip. There was something disturbingly familiar about his face.

" _Ty znayesh' kto ya_? Do you know me?"

His voice was accented heavily in Russian. Your heart dropped as you realised who he was.

"Dmitri Volkov." You spat.

The man chuckled. "What, are you not happy to see me? You seemed so desperate when you were meddling in my affairs, _vashe vysochestvo_."

You turned your face away.

" _Koroleva_ , you may recognise my right hand man, known only as _Koshmar_."

Heavy footsteps suddenly started their ruthless tattoo behind you, and your stalker appeared beside you. He grinned evilly and muttered something to Volkov in Russian.

" _Koroleva_ , we do not have much time. I am going to kill you, but first I need you to answer some questions. As an ... incentive for you to answer, I would like to educate you in one of my favourite methods of torture.

"It is called Lingchi, although some people call it death by one thousand cuts. For every lie or every silence, I will cut you very slightly. The aim is to have you with as many cuts as possible before you die. My record is over 500, and I'd like to beat it. I will not ask you many questions, but I would like to continue with your pain before I have to kill you."

You struggled against your restraints. "He'll come for you. James. He will." You spat at Volkov. The small glob of spit landed just short of his shoe.

His head snapped up. He narrowed his eyes at you. "Trust me, _Koroleva_ , I'm counting on it."

He picked up the knife and moved to stand next to you.

"First question. What is your name?"

You stared straight ahead, not looking at him.

He smirked. The knife slashed across your forearm. It didn't hurt, but the shock made you gasp.

"What's your name, _vashe vysochestvo_?"

"(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)"

Volkov smiled. You noticed a gold tooth. "Now that wasn’t so hard. Next question; what is the name of your current romantic interest?"

Part of you wanted to say that he wasn't your romantic interest, or, at least, he was, but not in the way Volkov was thinking. The other part of you just wanted it to be over, so that you could die quickly.

"James."

Another slash, this time across your shoulder. Your top's material ripped with the knife, and a crimson thread started to adorn the garment.

"Liar. What is his name?"

"James! I swear, that's all I know of his name!"

You waited for another slash, but Volkov seemed satisfied.

"Very well. Now, _malyshka_ , I would like to know how you met."

You swallowed. How much should you tell him? Would the punishment be worse if you told the whole truth, or the partial truth?

You cried out as the knife's blade ripped through the material across your stomach. Volkov wasn't being so light with the knife, and much more blood seeped from the wound.

"Do not test my patience, _krasotka_."

"He came to me when your henchman was following me. Told me that he noticed and wanted to make sure I was safe. The romance is just a facade. It was to make it seem like he knew me, to make sure that I was never alone, and that your man knew I was never alone."

" _Ochen' umnyy, soldat_. So, how much do you know about him?"

"Nothing. Just that his name is James and he was in the army at some point."

Volkov questioned you for what felt like a very long time. Each question was either about you or about James or about how you found out about Volkov.

After what felt like days, he stopped. You felt like you had millions of cuts, as Volkov had started randomly cutting you when he felt like it. Your body ached, and each cut was bleeding so slowly, it felt like you could feel your life slowly slipping away with each slash of Volkov's knife.

“ _Vy delayete khorosho, koroleva_. I am keeping going until you pass out, _suka_.” He smiled and wiped the blade of his knife on his sleeve.

You were glowing with sweat. A sheen of moisture was clinging to every part of your being. Your muscles ached and your skin hurt. It was horrid when you moved even a muscle. You only responded to his new cuts with grunts, as writhing caused too much pain. Your skin prickled with a thousand pinpricks, and each new slice brought tears to your eyes.

He was becoming reckless. He began to go over existing cuts, bursting open the partially healed wounds. He was cutting deeper, and your clothes were in tatters, smeared with blood.

He held the knife to your face. “You know, _koroleva_ , you gave me this scar.” With his free hand, he indicated to the mutilated skin on his face. “Although you did not do it personally, you caused me this pain. A man who found me because of you cut my face. He died painfully, but I assure his pain will be minute compared to what you are beginning to feel.”

The blade pressed deeper into the skin on your cheek. A thin trickle of blood ran down to your jawline. He removed the blade. “You will not live, and you will not remain pretty, _suka_.”

The blade met your face again, this time, just above your left eye. “You are going to be in a lot of pain, _koroleva_.” He smirked at you.

He pushed the blade into your skin. You opened your mouth in a silent shriek, and the agony became almost unbearable. Blood gushed past your eye and you thrashed in the chair. Volkov grabbed your face.

His voice was a deadly whisper. “Do not move.”

His hand moved the knife ever so slowly. The pain was unbearable and tears were pouring down your cheeks. The blade reached the skin just below your eyebrow.

The last thing you saw out of your left eye was Volkov’s evil smile.

Your silent scream suddenly became a very real one, as the knife cut through the soft tissue of your eye, blinding you. You pulled at the restraints on your wrists and swore at Volkov. Your scream was excruciatingly loud, and your throat was sore, but the loudness seemed to help with the pain, even just to give you something else to concentrate on.

The knife finally moved away from your eye, and Volkov took it away from your face just before the bridge of your nose. You were crying, and gasping for air. Your body was shuddering and you had your eye clenched shut. You could feel the blood creating a crimson waterfall down your left cheek.

The pain was becoming too much. Your head was feeling light. You opened your eye and the room swam before you.

Koshmar stumbled into the room. He was breathing heavily, and he was clutching his right arm, but you could see blood pouring from a recent wound.

“ _Oni zdes. Oni prikhodyat dlya neye_.” Koshmar stumbled back out of the room. You could hear shouts from outside, and they were getting nearer. Loud gunshots were ringing out in the clear twilight air.

“ _Ya proshu proshcheniya, koroleva_ , but I am going to kill you now.” He held up a gun and pointed it between your eyebrows. You shut your eye and let out a silent breath, suddenly finding peace in the horror of death.

An exclamation from Volkov made you open your eyes. He was doubled over and an arrow was protruding from his shoulder. His head snapped up and you cried out as he swung the barrel of the gun, which collided with your jaw. You felt yourself finally sinking into the depths of unconsciousness, when a familiar voice called your name.

You slowly opened your eye, and a tall man with dark, shoulder-length hair and a mask covering the bottom half of his face was stood in front of you, Volkov hanging from his hand, choking in his grasp. Your mind flickered and a memory was triggered, but you were not alive enough to see what it was. Instead, you opened your blood-filled mouth and spoke two words quietly and croakily.

“Help me.”


	5. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader finds out about Bucky (and isn't best pleased).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a summary of what happened in the last chapter if you skipped it:  
> Volkov tortured the reader by Lingchi (hundreds/thousands of cuts all over the body) and cut her left eye so she can't use it - she's effectively blind in that eye. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one!

You awoke in a room. Everything was white; the walls, the ceiling, your bed. It felt clinical.

Your eye was throbbing. It was difficult, trying to see with only one eye.

"You're awake."

You had failed to notice the man hunched in the chair on your left side. He had been resting his head in his hands, but was now looking at you. You gave him a small smile.

"Hello James."

He smiled back at you, a wide, genuine grin. Your heart melted.

"I knew you'd come for me."

He got up from his chair and leaned on the bed.

"'Course I came, doll. What kind of protector would I be if I didn't?"

He stroked the hair just above your forehead and you closed your eye as you floated in the comfortable silence.

"Is she alright?"

You felt James move from the bed, but didn't open your eye. You were comfortable, and you felt safer, much safer than you had in the past few weeks.

You heard James answer the unknown voice. Their conversation was incomprehensible to you, so you just lay there happily.

"Doll, can you open your eye?" You grunted softly and opened your eye slowly. James was standing at the end of the bed, and another tall figure was stood behind him, but you couldn't see him properly.

"Who's that?" You mumbled sleepily.

"This is someone that is very close to me. His name is Steve."

The figure moved forwards and you had to hold in a gasp. Steve Rogers a.k.a. Captain America a.k.a. every girl's dream was standing in front of you. His good looks took your breath away. Where James was sharp, Steve was soft. He was as well built as James and definitely as tall. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but a tight-fitting shirt and jeans. You silently admired how his soft blonde hair fell in front of his face slightly.

“James, I know who Captain America is. I’m not from the dark ages. But, what’s he doing here?”

“You’re in the Avengers Tower-“

“I’m _what_?!”

“Doll, I know-“

“The _hell,_ James? Why am I here?”

“Look, Volkov hurt you really badly. I brought you here so that Stark could help you-“

“How the _fuck_ do you know Tony _fucking_ Stark and Steve _fucking_ Rogers?”

“Look, doll-“

“James you better tell me what the _fuck_ is going on because I lost a _fucking_ eye and I am pretty sure I deserve to know how the man I have been living with knows a bunch of superheroes. And don’t even think about lying to me.” You were breathing heavily, and you were glaring a James with your open eye.

“(Y/N), I didn’t tell you who I am, but only because you never asked. You said you know Captain America, so I guess you know his backstory. Have you ever been to the museum?”

You shook your head, desperate to understand.

“He had a comrade, a friend. His name was James Buchanan Barnes, otherwise called Bucky.” James ran an anxious hand through his hair and avoided your gaze.

Your eye widened. _So that’s why he looked so fucking familiar. But how?_ “But he died in 1944.”

“No, he- I didn’t. That corporation, HYDRA? They found me and kept me alive, and gave me the arm. Then Steve found me, and he’s helped me. I-“

“And you never thought I might want to know? You never thought that it was important to tell me who you were?”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I wasn’t me. I- I was brainwashed. I became a killer. I…” His voice trailed off. During your argument, Steve had slipped out, and you were grateful.

“Doll, I had a code name. I was… well-known.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about James?”

He winced and looked at the floor. “I was on the news. There was a man-hunt for me.”

He was rambling and you were very, _very_ scared. “James, what was your name?” You asked, your voice deadly quiet.

He made a couple of spluttering noises, as if struggling to get the words out. Your breathing quickened, and you realised that, maybe, you didn’t want to know. He finally looked at you, and there was pain in his eyes.

“I was known as the Winter Soldier.”

His confession made your heart stop. Your eyes widened and you clenched your fists. “No no no no no…” You were muttering under your breath, your eye clenched shut, and your head rolled about on the pillow, as if you were in pain. “Not you, not you, not you…” you kept repeating.

James was watching your reaction, and it terrified him. He grabbed your hand, and tried to ask you what was wrong. You snatched your hand out of his grasp, as if you found him repulsive.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you tasted the salty bitterness on your tongue. You had to tell him, and you _hated_ him.

You opened your eyes, and looked directly at him, holding his eye contact. The worry that was present in his gaze pulled at your heart, but you stamped it down, and glared at him.

As you made eye contact, he immediately tried to say something. “Doll-“

“You know why I _hate_ the Winter Soldier? Do you know what he did to me?” You spat, wanting this man out of the room.

He shook his head silently.

“Four years ago, I was late for dinner with my family. They lived in an apartment in New York. I didn’t mean to be late, but I had had a really big fight with my ex-boyfriend, and it had held me back.” You were crying, sobbing, but you kept talking, filling your voice with venom. “I didn’t find out until I got there. I didn’t realise. I should have, what with the police cars and the car crashes along the road. But I didn’t. Do you what I saw when I reached the block? _Do you know?!”_ You were screaming, shouting, and James was so pale. You didn’t care.

“The entire block of apartments had been levelled. No survivors. My entire family died. And I should’ve been there with them. My _entire fucking family!_ And do you know what I was told had happened?” Your voice was shaking, your whole being was racked with pain from the memory. “It was on the news.” You imitated the voice-over of a news report. “The Avengers fail to save lives! Four blocks of apartments flattened by the Winter Soldier! You did this, James! _You killed my family and I will NEVER FUCKING FORGIVE YOU!”_

James stood up and stumbled to the door, his face pale and he was mumbling apologies that you didn’t want to hear. You curled in the bed, crying loudly, not caring who heard. Then, James was gone, and all you could hear was his shouts for help as he ran down the corridor. Even in your intense grief and pain, a part of you wondered why he was asking for help. You had been lying on your left side, and you shuffled backwards, trying to relieve the pain by finding comfort on the bed. The dark patch of where your head had previously been warned you something was wrong and you lifted a shaking hand to your left cheek. You inspected your fingers that were now stained with a deep scarlet. You finally understood James’ horror, and it gave you some satisfaction.

You were crying blood.


	6. Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader discovers a fun new perspective with the aid of Captain America.

Nurses rushed in, carrying tools and bandages. They hoisted your limp body onto some sort of stretcher and pushed you through the tower, into the lift. You heard the numbers counting down, but didn’t care to wonder where you were going. All your thoughts were focused on James. _James._ The man who had protected you. The man that had rescued you. The man you had been slowly falling in love with. He’d killed your family. He’d butchered them without a second thought, and yet he’d lived with you.

You vaguely registered bright lights and white walls, similar to a hospital, but you hadn’t left the building. A young woman’s face appeared, but the image was distorted; blurred at the edges.

“I am Helen Cho. You are in the basement of the tower, and we are going to perform surgery on your left eye. Mr Barnes approached one of my colleagues, telling them of your current predicament. I don’t know how much of what I’m saying you’ll understand, but there is no need to worry. My medical team is made up of some of the best doctors and surgeons. You’ll be in good hands.”

Only as you heard her words did you realise how agonising the pain in your eye had become. People were shouting at each other, some grabbing equipment whilst others put on gloves. You were in so much pain that you hardly noticed. When they gave you an anaesthetic, you didn’t even struggle, and instead embraced the darkness.

***

When you woke, you were back in your room. You had a raging headache and your left eye was hurting like crazy. You opened your right eye and groaned as the glare of the bright light forced its way into your pupil. You heard a quiet chuckle beside you. You turned your head and gasped in surprise as you found bright blue eyes gazing back. Steve closed his book and set it on your beside table. He leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees.

“How’re you feeling?”

You snorted, but it caught in your throat and you coughed loudly. It hurt, and definitely didn’t aid your headache. “Like shit.”

Steve laughed. “I’ll bet. Have you taken a look around yet?”

“I haven’t left my room. Unless you count being half unconscious as taking a look, then no.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “You haven’t realised yet, have you?”

You tilted your head, as best you could, in confusion. “What?”

He looked at you - a long gaze that made a blush creep up your face. “Try opening your left eye.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

You rolled your eye and closed your eye. It would hurt. The eye probably hadn’t healed yet. You sighed and slowly prised both eyes open. You almost screamed at what happened.

Your left eyelid opened swiftly and comfortably, without pain. As you looked at Steve, arrows appeared, and then words and images. _Steve Rogers. Alias Captain America. Weight: 240 lbs. Height: 6”2’. Eyesight: 20/20._ Photos and videos of his battles as Captain America floated in little boxes next to his head. _Know enemies: HYDRA. Known associates: Tony Stark, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Thor Odinson, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, James Barnes._ You moved your gaze from Steve, and it all dropped away, leaving your eyesight perfect. You blinked. It was like your eye was… a computer.

“What the fuck…?” Your voice wasn’t higher than a whisper, but Steve heard you. He laughed again.

“Pretty cool, huh? Stark suggested it. I don’t like him, but he still has some pretty good ideas. They replaced your eyeball with some kind of monitor and it runs on the electricity produced by the impulses in your brain. And it has voice command! Ask it something!”

You were still looking straight ahead. “I-I don’t know what to ask…”

Steve looked delighted, and you shared it, but you were more cautious. Steve thought for a moment. “Try asking where the nearest station is.”

“Um, where’s the nearest station?” You didn’t really know what you were doing. You were asking an eye for directions, and there was no evidence that it would work.

Suddenly, a small map appeared in the top left corner of your vision. A thin line drew the roads and buildings, and then another orange line drew a short line, one end of it pulsing.

Steve’s voice interrupted your wonder. “What do you think?”

You looked at him, and all the information cropped up again. “It’s… It’s amazing, but how do I turn it off?”

“Just tell it to turn off. Then you’ll be left with just a normal eye.”

You instructed the eye to turn off, and suddenly all the information surrounding Steve disappeared. You blinked again. Even though you’d barely adjusted to having to use one eye, using both seemed peculiar. You blushed as you realised you’d been staring at Steve, and he’d been staring back. You dropped your gaze and pushed yourself up the bed.

“What now?”

Steve looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t stay here, and I can’t go back to my old house in case Volkov’s men come after me again, so where do I go?”

Steve tilted his head. “Why can’t you stay here?”

You blushed slightly. “Well, you’re all superheroes, and I’m, well, me. I can’t stay with the Avengers – I don’t fit in. I don’t have many skills, and I’ll just be a liability and-“

“Stop, (Y/N). Of course you’re staying here. There was never any question of it. We’ve already got a room ready.”

The two of you sat in peaceful silence, enjoying each other’s company. After a while you turned to Steve. “Has Ja-“ _Not James. Bucky._ “Bucky. Has Bucky told you about what happened?”

Steve didn’t meet your gaze. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“He’s feels awful, (Y/N). But you need to know, it wasn’t him. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“That’s the thing, Steve! Every time I look at him, all I can think of is how he killed my family. My brain doesn’t care that he was being manipulated, it cares that he ruined my life!”

“Okay. I get it, (Y/N). He was trying to kill me. Just remember, everyone should have a second chance. No one is beyond hope.” Steve stood up and left without a backward glance. A small part of you felt guilty for accusing his best friend of causing all your grief, but you didn’t really care. It bothered you more that you had potentially pissed off Captain America.

***

You’d fallen into a blank sleep. You were shaken awake by some nurses, who checked your eye was working properly. After a thorough medical check, they determined you fit enough to venture out of your room. They left, assuring you that someone would bring you clothes and help you change, considering your body was still pretty weak from Volkov’s torture.

You were sat at the edge of your bed, trying to work out how much standing up would hurt when the door opened. A slim but strong woman wandered in, a collection of outfits slung over her arm. Her bright red hair brushed her shoulders, and she smiled, although it didn’t extend to her eyes.

“Natasha. Here’s some clothes for you to try on. When you’re ready we’ll head down to the others.”

Her voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t welcoming either. You held out a hand, and she handed you a top and a pair of jeans. The top was too big, and the jeans were too long. You tried on a dress that was too short. It continued until you decided your body couldn’t take much more and you put on a loose top and a mid-thigh skirt that wouldn’t restrict your movements. Natasha slipped some slippers on your feet and helped you put on a cardigan.

Before you left you turned to her. “You don’t like me, do you?”

She smirked slightly. “I don’t like many people. I’m trying to work out if I should trust you. I am not as easy to impress as Barnes or Steve.”

“I don’t care if you trust me or not. I have been hurt and I need help. You have helped me, and I am grateful, but I do not want to stay if you are going to be hostile. I just found out that my so-called ‘protector’ actually killed my family and that Tony Stark saved my life and that Steve Rogers is fiercely protective over his friends and all I want is my family back because they’d help me and they’d know what to do but they’re gone so I have to rely on people that I only know because I read the news. So don’t talk to me about trust, _Natasha,_ because I don’t have much to spare!” You were panting slightly, out of breath from your sudden outburst.

Natasha looked at you hard for a moment and then grinned, and her eyes shone with humour. “You are _brilliant!_ You and I are going to be very good friends!” With that, she took your arm, and let you rest your weight on her. The two of you slowly made your way towards where the sounds of murmuring and laughter could be heard.

Time to meet the team.


	7. Welcomed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader irrevocably informs Steve of her feelings whilst being completely unaware (which is naturally Tony's fault).

The chattering stopped as you entered, holding on to Natasha. You looked slowly at the people sat around the table. There was Tony, who looked at you curiously, Pietro and Wanda, who shared a glance, Thor, who smiled at you encouragingly, Clint, who grinned at Natasha and then at Bruce, who was sat next to him. At the end of the table sat Steve, who smiled at you slightly, and nodded in encouragement. Next to him was Bucky. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, but you pulled your gaze away, determined not to cry because of the emotions that suddenly bubbled up inside of you. He cleared his throat and muttered something to Steve, then stood up and left without a backward glance.

You looked at your shoes awkwardly and tried to work out how to break the silence. You could feel everyone’s gaze on you, and knew you had to make the first move. Without looking up, you spoke softly. “Uh, hi.”

Tony barked with laughter, and your head shot up to look at him incredulously. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his body still shook with mirth. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

Tony stood up and held out his hand. You shook it awkwardly, which seemed to make him laugh even more. Eventually, he stopped shaking and wiped an eye. “I’m sorry, but this awkwardness really doesn’t suit any of us. Barnes is a heartbroken bitch who wants to go and have a sulk elsewhere, and I’ll be damned if the old codger stops me having a good time!”

His outburst was mixed with indignant interjections from Steve, but Thor laughed loudly and came over to you, Tony and Natasha. He clapped Tony on the back so hard that Tony stumbled forwards and cried out “Hey! Watch the goods!”

Bruce chuckled and rolled his eyes and Steve lapsed into silence whilst Tony and Thor made their way over to Tony’s bar to retrieve alcohol. You slowly made your way over to Steve, and sat down opposite him. He grinned at you.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

You laughed. “What’s there to be sorry about? I’m glad you guys feel comfortable enough to be yourselves around me.”

Tony suddenly appeared next to you, baring a glass of strange-looking liquid. You eyed it suspiciously. “What is that?”

Tony smirked. “It’s a little… potion… that Bruce and I have been-“

A whoosh of air passed you and suddenly Tony was no longer holding the glass. He blinked in surprise, but the culprit and his sister burst out laughing. Wanda doubled over in her seat and gasped for air whilst Pietro sniggered at Tony’s confused look. “Sorry Stark, but that drink is not a potion, but more of a poison. Are you trying to get her drunk?”

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “No comment. And besides, how do you know what’s in it, Snailpace?”

Pietro pulled a look of mock horror and stood up. His chair was left rattling in his wake as he appeared next to you with an accusative finger pointed at Tony. “Don’t call me that, Tinbrain!”

“Slowpoke!”

“Metalhead!”

“Lethargic!”

“Twat!”

“Bitch!”

“Asshole!”

“I believe Stark used some of my Asgardian liquor. Some of it is missing.” Thor’s deep voice interrupted.

“Yes girls, please stop bickering.” Natasha muttered quietly.

Tony reddened slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Pietro grinned smugly as Steve picked up the glass and sniffed at the liquid. He narrowed his eyes at Tony. “This _has_ got Thor’s stuff in it. Buck and I use it to get drunk.”

Tony snatched the glass. “You two pensioners try to get drunk?”

“Believe it or not, Stark, Buck and I like to try to forget sometimes too!”

You grinned, watching the argument unravel in front of you. A low voice spoke softly in your ear, making you jump slightly. “10 bucks on Tony.”

You turned to see Wanda grinning at you. You nodded. “I can do better.” You raised your voice. “As a little icebreaker, here’s a bet. Steve, if you can drink three shots of Thor’s Asgardian shit and not get drunk, I’ll drink one shot. If you get tipsy, I’m staying sober.”

Steve’s eyes widened, but Tony clapped his hands together. “Brilliant. Alright old man, try and get drunk!”

Thor disappeared to get his liquor, and Tony went to the bar to try and find some shot glasses. Steve leaned down to you. “What’s in this for you?”

You smiled. “I either get to see Captain America get drunk or I get to feel weightless for a night. I don’t see any downsides.”

Steve chuckled, a deep sound that went straight to your core. You crossed your legs surreptitiously and turned to watch Thor filling the glasses with his drink. Steve straightened and ran a hand through his hair. He crosses to the bar. Tony held out the first glass and Steve took it reluctantly.

“For the record, we’ll know if you’re lying, Cap. Nat tells me you’re a terrible liar. Also, JARVIS can scan your body to find out whether or not you’re intoxicated.” Tony grinned maliciously.

“Whatever, Stark.” Steve sighed and made his way towards the bar. Thor reappeared and poured the clear liquid into the three shot glasses. Everyone crowded round, and you found yourself flanked by the Maximoff twins. Wanda was talking animatedly to Natasha and Pietro was looking at you with casual interest. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

He grinned. “That was an… unusual proposition.”

“And?”

Pietro gestured towards Steve, who was trying to talk Tony out of the bet. “You must have confidence in him. You trust him enough not to be scared at the prospect of him getting drunk, and you respect him enough to feel like you can relax around him.”

You shrugged and turned back to the bar. Pietro leaned behind you and muttered something in Sokovian to Wanda, who giggled. You were mildly irritated by the fact that they were most likely talking about you, but you were far more interested in whether or not America’s Golden Boy was going to get sloshed.

Tony jumped onto the bar and knelt next to the shot glasses. “So, Captain, time to find out if my father really made you alcohol-proof!” He gestured to the glasses like a ringleader gesturing to his next act. “Shot one!”

Steve grasped the shot glass and tipped his head back as he downed it with one gulp. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed the liquid. It was an illegally attractive action, you decided.

Tony smiled widely. “Shot two!”

Steve grabbed the next glass and repeated his actions. You crossed your arms to mask the shiver than ran through your body as you watched him. His hair was a mess from where he had run his hands through his hair whilst trying to dodge the bet.

Tony smiled mischievously. “Last shot, pensioner!”

Steve rolled his eyes and downed the last glass. You hear a quiet chuckle from the far side of the room, and turned your head. Your eyes were met with soft blue ones, creased around the edges from smiling. Bucky wasn’t smiling, more smirking, but he was evidently amused by the situation. You studied him for a moment. His hair was loosely tied up, pieces falling out at the front and he was biting his lower lip slightly.

For a second, you forgot your hatred and became overcome with the desire to brush his hair from his face and pluck his lip from his teeth with your own. It took all your self-control not to run to him and do just that. Then he noticed you looking, and locked eyes with you. You immediately looked away, remembering how he had hurt you. He closed his eyes, and you watched him again. He swallowed visibly and turned and left the room. The small twinge of regret surprised you, but a shout of delight from Tony made you turn your focus away from him.

“JARVIS, would you do the honours?”

The robotic voice answered him coolly. “Of course, sir.” There was a momentary pause and the room was silent. Some of the people around you looked hopeful, certain the Steve was drunk. Others were shaking their heads slightly, predicting his sobriety. You were unsure and were interested to find out.

Tony rolled his eyes; JARVIS was evidently taking too long for his liking. “Come on, speed it up JARVIS. Sometime today would be nice.”

The robotic voice rang out again, as emotionless as his first answer. “Sir, there is no evidence of any alcohol. Mr Rogers is in no way intoxicated.”

There were groans and laughs as various amounts of money exchanged hands. Tony handed a thick wad of money to Thor and approached you directly.

“So, hot stuff, you gonna get drunk?”

You blushed slightly at his forwardness and chuckled. “Sure.”

He offered a hand, and helped you to the bar, where another shot was poured. You hesitated slightly, and then took a large gulp. The Asgardian liquor hit you like a brick. One moment everything was fine, and then suddenly, the world was spinning and the only thing in focus was Steve’s face, which was suddenly the most heavenly sight you’d ever seen (not that that was new, though). You stumbled towards him, and landed sloppily in his arms. He chuckled slightly and helped you wobble towards the nearest sofa, where you lay with your head in his lap. If you weren’t so unaware of your surroundings, then you probably would have been blushing hard enough to make a tomato look pale, but instead, you just wriggled so you could make yourself comfortable, not noticing the way Steve gasped slightly and tightened his grip on his leg and your wrist.

You lay like that for God knows how long. You just watched Steve’s angelic face, phasing in and out of consciousness. At one point in the evening you were aware of people slowly filtering out of the room. When you next regained consciousness, Steve was carrying you in his arms. After that, he was settling you in your bed.

You weren’t properly conscious, so Steve felt he couldn’t blame you for your actions, and made himself promise that he wouldn’t be sad when you couldn’t remember them, but that didn’t stop him from feeling completely euphoric when you sleepily told him that you thought he was pretty and grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him. He made himself promise not to avoid you because that was one of the best-worst kisses of his life. He made himself promise that he would continue treating you as a gentlemen should, and he wouldn’t pursue his fantastical feelings towards you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the bet doesn't really make sense but I wanted to have a reason to get either Steve or the reader drunk and I can't be bothered to change it now! :D hope you enjoyed! (and please keep commenting! I love getting comments!)  
> +++  
> Also, has anyone seen Civil War yet? I saw it yesterday (it's already out here in the UK) and HOLY BALLS it was amazing. I cried three times. And I was (of course!) Team Cap <3


	8. NOTICE

Heya everyone!

 

First, thank you guys SO much for so many reads in such a short space of time! I'm kind of just writing this for my own benefit, and it's really wonderful that you guys are enjoying it as much as I am!

Okay, time for the main notice:

Today, I started some super important exams, and they're going to continue until 24th June. I probably won't be writing any more of this until then. I know most of you won't care, but it really bothers me when someone just randomly stops writing one of their stories, so this is my little warning.

 

Thank you guys so much for all the nice comments, and it'd be nice to read some more whilst I'm gone ;)

\- Cat


	9. Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which the reader meets someone new and we find out about her previous occupation and she has her heart broken.

Being drunk from space juice was weird but the hangover was just painful. You head felt as though a crash of rhinoceroses were dancing on your head and as though your intestines were playing Twister. You tried to sit up, but the dizziness was unbearable, and you quickly retreated back to the warmth of your pillow.

You groaned loudly when your door was flung open and a large body lifted you out of bed (covers still wrapped around you) and carried you out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut at the blinding sunlight and buried your head in the warm chest that was rising and falling steadily. A low chuckle rumbled through said chest and a voice whispered quietly in your ear.

“Morning, (Y/N).”

You yawned and continued to doze against your transporter’s chest. Another snicker rolled their body and you grunted, trying to tell them to stop moving because your head hurt so _fucking_ bad and you wanted nothing more than to lie in a warm bed. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, your carrier gently placed you down on a soft surface and you were pleased to find you had been granted your wish. Except you got a little extra than bargained for.

The strong body that had been carrying you proceeded to join you. They radiated heat and you couldn’t help yourself when you snuggled into them, your back fitting perfecting into the curve of their chest, your body humming when they wrapped you in their arms. You had the best sleep of your life in that room.

When you awoke, you immediately panicked. You shot up in bed, confused by the unfamiliar surroundings and the arm thrown carelessly across your middle. Thankfully, you were wearing clothes, but the body connected to the arm definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the covers weren’t low enough to inform of the state of their lower abdomen.

You were just about to use your eye to determine who it was when they rolled in their sleep and faced you. You had to stop yourself from screaming/moaning when you saw who it was.

Steve Rogers was looking even more angelic than usual; the rays that were seeping in from behind the blind lit up his golden hair like a halo. Your breath left you when you looked at him neck down. His perfectly formed chest and abs looked like someone had decided to make an adorable dork but had accidentally put too much sexiness into the mix. You almost passed out from the sheer attractiveness of Captain Rogers when your eyes travelled further and you realised that he _was_ wearing pyjama bottoms (you didn’t really know if you were more relieved or disappointed), but they had evidently slipped down in the night and were now riding dangerously low on his hips. You had to refrain from licking you lips and you followed the sharp ‘v’ that disappeared into the blue fabric.

Steve grunted and you tore your gaze away and studied his face again. No wonder he was America’s most sought-after bachelor; he was undeniably attractive, to the point where it was almost sinful. In his sleep he looked unbearably peaceful. The silence in the room would have been deafening, but instead you didn’t want break the calm. Carefully, you lowered yourself back down, using your arm to prop yourself up slightly, and you just gazed at him.

After a while, your eyes fluttered shut and you dozed lightly. Movement from Steve made you open your eyes. They met soft blue ones that lit up and he realised you were awake. Even though it was just the two of you, Steve kept his voice quiet.

“Did I wake you?”

You smiled at him sleepily. “No.” He smiled back at you, and made to get out of bed. You gently grasped his wrist. “Stay.”

He looked mildly surprised but nodded his head in consent. You rolled over and slipped back under the covers, his warm chest supporting your back and his arms wrapped lightly around your middle. You wriggled, making yourself comfortable. You grunted happily, but you felt Steve tense behind you. Instead of over-thinking it, you just stilled your movements and relaxed. You felt Steve unwind and his finger brushed over your arm, drawing slow patterns. The gesture was sweet and comforting and intimate, and you slipped into a cosy sleep.

***

Steve was gone when you awoke properly. At the end of the bed was a steaming mug of something hot, toast and some clothes. As you reached to pick up the toast, you noticed a message scrawled on a piece of paper.

**Good morning,**

**Sorry for leaving you, but the team needs me to go out with them. We’ve all gone to scope out a potential HYDRA base. Nothing serious, I promise. Be back this evening.**

**Steve**

**PS I’m really sorry about this, because I know how awkward things are between you, but Bucky is here with you. He’s the only one we could leave. Sorry.**

You were mid-chew when you read the last part of the note, and you almost spat out your toast. _Shit._ Being in the tower alone with Bucky? Not good.

You were still in Steve’s room. It wasn’t as sparsely decorated as you would’ve expected. The bed was lying along one wall, with a wooden wardrobe at the foot of it. In the opposite corner was a small circular mirror with a wooden corner table underneath it, which had a number of books and, you noted with amusement, some old Captain America comics that looked like they were from the 1940s (which they probably were). In the other corner was a small desk with a laptop on it. Some files and sheets of paper were messily spread around the laptop, but the thing that caught your eye was a small notebook that lay perfectly straight among the chaos of the desk, with a pencil balanced on top. The notebook looked as if it was treasured by the owner. You slowly rose from the bed and picked it up, your curiosity piqued. You opened it and peered at the inside cover. You blushed slightly at the surprisingly curly handwriting.

_This notebook belongs to Steve Rogers (1942)_

You flipped through the pages, well aware that you should be embarrassed about invading his privacy, but you were desperately curious. You smiled as you drank in each doodle and drawing. As you got further in, you started recognising pictures; many of modern landscapes or of other Avengers. You even smiled at the various doodles of Bucky that were strewn throughout the pages. His most recent picture, however, made your heart stop.

It was you, earlier that morning.

Your hair fanned out across the pillow, clever shading to show the rays of light across your body, your head lying on one side, your arms resting on your torso, your top riding up whilst your legs mixed with the fabric of your skirt and the covers, pale scars along your arms and a faint smile on your lips.

It was beautiful.

Then reality gave you a massive punch in the face, and you slammed the book shut and quickly placed it back on the desk. It was a gross invasion of Steve’s privacy, and you had no right to see it, no matter how much it made you smile.

You turned to the now cool mug, and downed it quickly, finished the toast and threw on the clothes that Steve had left for you. It was one of his tops (that smelled like him) and a pair of sweatpants, which were presumably Natasha’s. You picked up the dirty crockery and swiftly exited the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

You burst into the kitchen with more force than you meant to, but you sped over to the dishwasher and quickly placed everything inside. You spun around when you heard the sound of a fork scraping a plate. _Oh God._

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

The man sat at the table stood up slowly.

Your left eye seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. No information came up, not even a name. So, instead, you just observed him. He had dark skin and wore black leather clothing, and looked like he had just walked out of the Matrix, but the most curious thing about him was the eyepatch covering his left eye. He didn’t smile at you, but swept your body with an analytical gaze.

“I would’ve made contact, but I didn’t know you existed until this morning.”

You shrugged. “Sorry.”

“I’m curious.”

You cocked your head. “About what?”

“Volkov. Barnes told me everything you told him, and I looked into Volkov. I gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

You gulped and fidgeted, beginning to understand. “W-what?”

“It took my professional hackers days to get into the encrypted files.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me-“

“Don’t play dumb with me, (Y/N). I’m not stupid, and neither are you. Why did you hide your talents? We could use someone with your set of skills.”

“That’s the reason I don’t hack anymore. I don’t want to be part of some dumb group that try and hack to Pentagon for kicks, which, by the way, took me half an hour.”

The man smiled. “We’re not some dumb group. We’re SHIELD. We work with extraordinary people to accomplish peace.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir, but you have to wrong person. I’m not extraordinary.”

“Oh yeah? How long did it take you to hack British Intelligence?”

You wriggled uncomfortably. “Uh-“

“Forty five minutes. How long did it take you to gain control of the White House camera systems?”

“Look-“

“Ten minutes.”

You stared at the floor, desperately avoiding the man’s gaze. “That was years ago.”

“Not that long ago. I won’t push you, but I will emphasise that we urgently need people like you. So if you ever want to give one of those ‘dumb groups’ a try, give me a call.” He walked slowly past you, and placed a thin card on the counter.

The minute he was gone, your knees gave out and you collapsed against the counter. You spent a few moments trying to calm yourself down. You knew you were lying to him, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he knew it too.

_That was years ago._ Bullshit.

The day before Bucky had shown up, you’d been busily trying to hack Stark, but his annoyingly perfect AI had rewritten all the code every time you got close. _Damn you, Stark_. You’d done a lot more than hack intelligence. When you were in high school, you’d hacked the system so your grades were almost perfect. From there, you’d made your way into Harvard, and then hacked your way to the top. It had been an addiction, was an addiction, and your fingers itched to hack something new.

Then again, if you could do it for a _good_ cause, and help some people along the way? Maybe SHIELD wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

For the rest of the day, you sat in Steve’s room and lounged on the bed. You used his laptop to distract yourself and doodled on a scrap piece of paper whilst listening to music. Even when you weren’t thinking about anything, there was a dull itch in the furthest corner of your mind that was becoming increasingly difficult not to scratch. _God._ You were sharing a room with _Steve Rogers_ and you were alone in the _Avengers Tower_ with _Bucky Barnes_! You had a dream come true, and yet all you could do was wallow in the misery of knowing that you’d been falling for the man that killed your family.

Your deep thoughts were interrupted by a commotion downstairs. You jumped out of bed and ran towards the sound. You stormed through the doors to the miniature hospital that you’d been kept in after Volkov’s treatment. Inside, Tony, Bucky, Pietro and Bruce were frantically moving about, uttering rushed commands at the bustling nurses, whilst Helen Cho busily fetched tools from the counters, attending to an unseen patient behind a screen.

At your forceful entry, everyone momentarily stopped and stared at you. Pietro crossed the room to you and gently put a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), you should go.”

You turned to him. “Who is it? What’s happened?”

“You shouldn’t see this-“

“ _Who is it_?”

A low groan came from behind the screen, and you brushed Pietro off, quickly making your way towards the sound. A strong arm grabbed yours, deterring you.

“Don’t.”

You looked round to see Bucky looking pointedly at the ground. You swallowed, and tried to pull away. His grip tightened.

“ _Don’t_.”

You whirled at him, and he finally looked up, the blazing emotion in his eyes almost overwhelming you. Almost.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and strode to the screen. You hesitated, but pulled it back so you could see who it was.

His blonde hair was matted with blood, a thick red lace that decorated his entire body. His arm was held at an odd angle, his chest wasn’t moving His costume was shredded, and gaping wounds wound around his middle, oozing with dark liquid. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was hanging open, allowing a thin flow of blood to trickle down his cheek.

Your hand flew to your mouth, and you stumbled back, tears clouding your eyesight. You pushed past the people offering you comfort and headed for the lift, asking JARVIS to take you to the ground floor, where you stepped uncertainly into the busy streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I was going to wait to post this, but I have nothing else to do and I'm almost done on the next chapter anyway soooo I decided I'd post it. And I am DEFINITELY bored of revising because I started writing another fanfic XD I'm sorry that nothing really happens in this chapter but oh well :) I won't be updating for the next few weeks, though! Thanks for all the kind comments! It always makes my day when I see I have a new comment and I love you all SO much!!  
> ***  
> Also, yes, a 'crash of rhinoceroses' is literally the term applied to a group of rhinos and I HAD to use it when I found out XD


	10. Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Pietro is a good friend and the reader has a few changes

The park was quiet. There was an old lady walking a dog, some teenagers playing with a ball and a few couples lying on picnic blankets, pointing at the clouds and giggling. You wanted to smile, to enjoy the warm weather, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Steve. You’d always thought of Captain America as indestructible, but evidently no one was really immortal, even the people that should be.

You put your head in your hands. The wooden bench was slightly damp, but the seeping cold was an odd comfort to the mental pain you were experiencing. _What happened?_ _He said they were only going to scope out a building._

A rush of air toyed with your hair and the bench creaked slightly with the weight of someone sitting down. You didn’t look up. You didn’t care.

A hand gently placed itself on your shoulder. “Hey.”

You looked up. Pietro. You put your head in your hands again. You could feel tears forming, and you hated crying in front of people.

Pietro put his arm around you and hugged you to him. The intimacy of the action did something to you, and there was nothing you could do to stop the tears flowing from your eyes. Your entire body shuddered as sobs racked you.

Pietro didn’t say anything. He just held you whilst you cried.

After what felt like hours, your tears slowed down, and you were able to breathe properly. You wiped your eyes with your sleeves and broke away from Pietro’s embrace.

You looked out at the park. The old lady had gone, a woman was chaperoning the teenagers out of the park and the couples were packing up their picnics. The sky looked like a paint pallet, with the warm blue fading away, brushes of grey melted with the orange and pink of the sunset. Even in the beauty of the moment, all your brain could do was focus on the fact that it looked like paint, which reminded you of Steve’s notebook, which reminded you of Steve, which brought back all the pain.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was dry.

Pietro made a surprised noise and looked at you. “For what?”

“I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have looked. I acted like a stubborn child, and now the pain you were trying to save me from is even worse.”

Pietro furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed your back. “You would’ve found out anyway. We were only trying to stop you because it was hard for us to see him like that too. Jesus, you should have seen Barnes when Steve went down. Remind me never to piss him off.”

You smiled slightly. _I wish I could have a friendship like that._ You leaned into Pietro. There was no romance in the hug, just a quiet comfort that you hadn’t realised you needed.

“Y’know, Steve also asked us not to let you see.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

“Well, his condition worsened on our way here. He was conscious for most of the flight. He made us promise the stop you if you tried to see him.”

You tilted your head in thought. “Why?”

Pietro shrugged. “Guess he was trying to do what we all were. None of us wanted to cause you anymore pain. Even Barnes. Y’know, he’s not a bad guy. He’s done some bad stuff, been through a ton of shit, but he’s not a bad guy. In fact, I’m not sure there are many people that are better guys than him. ‘Sides Steve of course.”

You swallowed, but nodded slightly. “I know. That doesn’t make it any easier.”

Pietro snorted. “I’m not saying it does. What I _am_ saying is that he’ll wait. He’s a good person, so he’ll wait.”

***

The walk back to the tower was peaceful. Not many people were about, and the ones that were smiled as the two of you walked by. Occasionally, someone would comment on the nice night. One person actually recognised Pietro, and asked to take a picture. You gladly did it for them. You had to admit, you were surprised more people didn’t recognise him, but you didn’t pry.

Wanda greeted you at the door, and accompanied you upstairs, whilst Pietro sped off to help the others with Steve. When you stepped out of the lift, Wanda insisted on going with you to Steve’s room. You informed her of your decision to sleep there, and she didn’t bat an eyelid. Instead, she offered to grab some more pillows, which you gratefully accepted. Your body hadn’t quite recovered from Volkov’s ministrations, and you were aching all over.

Natasha appeared later, bearing a warm dinner. She sat with you whilst you ate it, and informed you about the mission. They’d been going to see if a suspected HYDRA base _was_ actually a HYDRA base. It was supposed to be a scouting mission, but a guard had caught sight of Tony and opened fire. Apparently, the entire scene erupted into chaos, with each hero fighting multiple HYDRA goons. Steve had been going strong until a particularly mouthy guy started teasing him about Bucky, and Steve had just stopped. Bucky had seen and had been trying to reach him, but a sniper shot at Steve, and then multiple other attackers got their hands on him. Bucky had gone ballistic, apparently. He’d just killed everyone in his path until he could reach Steve. He grabbed Steve, and the fight waned slightly, allowing everyone to get into the Quinjet and escape.

Bruce was the one to work out that the weapons HYDRA had used were laced with some kind of poison. Steve was to only one to have actually come into contact with one of the weapons, and although he’d been hurt badly, his condition had deteriorated too quickly for it just to be because of his other injuries. Bruce had immediately taken a sample of Steve’s blood and begun analysing the poison on the computer in the Quinjet.

They hadn’t worked out what it was yet.

After you finished your meal, Natasha left you in peace. You slept fitfully, paced around and eventually curled up in the chair at Steve’s desk. It smelled like him, and it felt like he was holding you. It was a comfort that helped you sleep.

That week, you restlessly wandered around the tower, helping with odd jobs, although no one would let you outside. No one updated you on Steve’s conditions, in fact, no one seemed to talk at all. You knew Steve was the leader, but you didn’t think it’d have such an effect on the team. Clint, Pietro and Natasha spent most of their time silently training. Natasha and Tony silently worked on finding information about the base. Bruce worked with Helen on Steve and the poison. Thor had vanished completely. Bucky didn’t leave his room.

You called SHIELD. It took you long enough to get over your pride, but you did it. The man that had spoken with you introduced himself as Director Fury. He told you he didn’t want you going on field missions, but if you wanted one of the Avengers to train you in some combat, it probably wouldn’t hurt. He sent you small activities to do, so he could assess where your skills could be used. They got progressively more difficult, but it was nice to have something else to think about. It meant you didn’t lie in Steve’s bed thinking about him. It meant you had a purpose.

You helped Natasha find some information. You found a file titled ‘Project Flight’ in a HYDRA database, but nothing important was in it. Still, it was a discovery.

It had been one month when Pietro appeared. One month of ignoring Steve. Of ignoring what could be happening to him. Of ignoring your feelings. Pietro burst into your room at some ungodly hour of the morning, vibrant grin on his face, fingers fidgeting with pent up excitement.

“He’s awake!”

You looked at him blurrily, not really sure of what he meant. “What?”

“Steve! He’s awake!”

Your brain suddenly registered what Pietro meant, and you shot out of bed. You grabbed Steve’s sweater and shoved it over your nightdress and sprinted out of his room, heading for the stairs. You didn’t want to wait for Tony’s lift. Pietro shot past you in a blur of colour. You were breathing heavily by the time you reached Helen Cho’s office. Pietro was waiting, holding the door open for you. You thanked him breathlessly and entered the room.

Steve was lying in a hospital bed, propped up by several cushions. Various wires were snaking out from his body, attaching to blinking machines and bags of liquid. He was facing away from you, a smile playing at his lips as he talked. Bucky was sat in a chair next to him, talking in a low voice and gesturing with his hands, laughing and falling over his words. You almost regretted entering, as however much you disliked Bucky, you didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Steve. It’s not like you were particularly close to Steve, and he and Bucky were like brothers. But Bucky noticed you standing there, and stood up. He leaned down and muttered something to Steve, who chuckled, and then he walked past you, briefly catching your gaze. You let your mind file the look away for later analysis, as Steve was a more pressing matter at hand.

You walked towards him, smiling slightly. “Hey.”

He smiled back. “Hi.”

You gestured to all the machines. “This all looks fancy.”

Steve snorted, but his laugh caught in his throat, and he spluttered instead. You grabbed a nearby beaker of water and helped him drink some of it. When he was finished, you put the beaker down and moved the chair Bucky had been occupying, moving it closer to Steve’s bedside.

“I missed you.” You meant it with all your heart. You missed waking up to him like you had that morning. You missed the feel of his body against yours. You missed his smile. You missed his laugh.

He smiled at you again. “I missed you too.”

A warmth spread throughout your body at his words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve looked at you curiously. “For what?”

You ran a hand through your hair, and suddenly realised that you’d literally rolled out of bed. Your hair was probably a mess and you were wearing an indecently short nightdress under _Steve’s_ sweater. You probably looked the height of indecency. “Ever since I showed up, I’ve caused a ton of trouble and-“

Steve laughed, without choking, and reached for your hand. You took his hand in both of yours, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “You think you caused this trouble? I’m an Avenger, it’s what I do.”

You smiled at his words. “But you got hurt-“

“Occupational hazard.”

You looked at the ground, embarrassed. He was so honest, so open, so _kind._ You wanted to just curl up in his arms and have him tell you that everything was okay. You looked up again, and found his studying your face. You locked gazes. You felt that it should have been awkward, looking at each other, but it was actually just peaceful. For a few minutes, you just looked at each other, thinking.

Then one of the nurses bustled in, carrying an enormous mug of something lumpy. She gently asked you to leave, as Steve needed food and needed all his wires checked. Steve watched you as you left, and you turned at the door. The nurse placed herself in your chair, and started stirring the lumpy fluid with a spoon. Steve pulled an exaggeratedly terrified face at you, but you just laughed and stuck your tongue out at him. You heard him laughing as you left the room.

You went straight back up to his room. You were half naked by the time you realised you didn’t actually know what you were going to wear. You sighed and flopped on the bed. “What do I wear?” you said to no one in particular.

“If I may, miss, Mr Stark has requested you wear a hospital gown.” JARVIS’ cool voice answered your rhetorical question. “There should be one in Mr Rogers’ wardrobe. Miss Romanov placed it there earlier.”

You opened Steve’s wardrobe, and sure enough, an ugly robe was hanging up. You took it, and began getting changed. A thought occurred to you.

“JARVIS, why does Tony want me to wear a hospital gown?"

“Mr Stark is going to replace your left eye with a better model that he and Mr Banner created last week.”

You nodded. _Makes sense._ You tied your hair up and folded your nightdress. “Where am I headed then?”

“Please go to Mr Banner’s office. I believe they plan to operate there.”

You left your room and began walking down the corridor, when you realised you had no idea where Bruce’s office was. You were about to consult your Magical Robot Eye, but a person came into view. Without even registering who it was you immediately asked where his office was.

Bucky looked up in surprise. You had to restrain yourself from groaning and rolling your eyes. _Of course it would be Bucky._

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. It’s this way.” He walked past you and headed towards the lift. You followed him nervously. The lift doors opened and Bucky walked in, quietly asking JARVIS to go to level 6.

Bucky leaned against the corner of the lift furthest from you. He kept running a hand through his hair and was anxiously chewing his bottom lip. You were in no mood to talk to him, so an uncomfortable silence encompassed both of you.

The lift glided to a stop and Bucky stepped out. He walked slightly in front of you as he led you down a series of corridors. “So, uh, why do you need Banner?”

 _None of your business_ you almost snapped at him. Instead you sighed. “He wants to replace my eye with a newer one.”

Bucky nodded awkwardly. “So they’re operating on you?”

“Uh-huh.”

He stopped abruptly outside a sliding glass door. You could see Tony and Bruce moving equipment around to accommodate a machine that looked vaguely threatening.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair again. It was a habit you’d noticed. He normally did it when he was nervous or really excited. “I’ll see you around, then.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

He turned around and walked back down the corridor. The small part of you that didn’t blame Bucky for your family’s death suddenly overwhelmed you with the urge to call after him. To say anything, _anything._ You almost did, but the doors in front of you slid open and Bruce immediately started fussing over you.

“Are you okay? This procedure won’t hurt. How are your scars? I’m sorry about Steve. How much sleep have you been getting? What’s your fibre intake? How much exercise have you done in the last-“

Tony hurried over and looped an arm around you, ushering you inside the lab. “Bruce, let the woman breathe. She’s about to undergo a serious medical procedure. Raising her heart rate won’t help.”

Bruce nodded and moved off to tap some data into the computer. The metallic machine in the middle of the room looked a lot restraining bed, but instead of leather straps there was a single, thick metal band across the middle, which Tony opened.

You raised an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “The band is just to stop you moving. You’ll be under an anaesthetic, but it locks your body in position in case you twitch or something. It’s not painful, I promise.”

You shrugged and clambered on the bed. Tony slowly lowered the band until it lay flush across your middle. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and under close inspection, you noticed that it had a soft, spongey substance on the underside that made it more accommodating.

Bruce appeared next to you, wielding what looked like a wire with a single, blunt-looking needle on the end. “This is a prototype for a new method of injection. It’s painless and it will induce a dream-state for the patient. You can manipulate this dream in any way you want; we won’t be able to judge you. This wire contains a number of different vitamins that will keep your vitals healthy and-“

“Bruce. You’re rambling.” Tony appeared on the other side of you. “The new eye monitor won’t be controlled by your words, but your thoughts. The other one was only a prototype anyway, but we figured this would be more useful in stealth situations. Not that you’ll be in any, but it’s always good to be safe.”

“If all goes to plan, this surgery will take about three hours. And the anaesthetic we’ll give you doesn’t have any after effects, although you might want to avoid spicy food for a few days.”

You grinned. “Put me under, boys.”

***

“Steve?”

A tall, well-built man with blonde hair was backing you. At your voice he turned. All traces of the incident had gone, and he beamed when he saw it was you.

“(Y/N)! I’ve got something I want to show you. Come on!” He held out his hand for you to take, and you happily placed you smaller hand in his palm. He pulled you gently and you followed him. As you did, you took a moment to take in your surroundings. You were outside, and there was a pleasant breeze that made the temperature perfect. You weren’t wearing shoes, and the grass tickled at your feet. You were wearing a 40s style dress, and you looked up to notice that Steve was wearing his old uniform, from the Second World War.

“Steve, where are we?”

He ignored you, and suddenly his pull on you became too much, and you stumbled, falling to your knees. Immediately Steve’s arms surrounded you, carrying you bridal style.

“We’re here.” He set you down gently. You turned around and gasped in surprise. A red, white and blue striped picnic blanket was set down on the ground, and a large picnic basket lay to one side. Spread out on the blanket was an assortment of foods; potato salad, coleslaw, hamburger pie and a chocolate cake. Small glasses of wine sparkled in the sunlight.

“Steve, I don’t know what to say, I- thank you.”

Steve grabbed at your hand again, turning you and pulling you to him. You gazed bashfully up at him, and he smiled back. “I missed you, (Y/N).” He leaned his head down, until your faces were inches apart. You could have counted each of his blonde eyelashes.

“Where did you go?” You mumbled, not really paying attention to what you were saying.

Steve’s breath was warm on your cheek, as he moved frustratingly slowly towards you. His gaze fell to your lips, and he was so close that you were breathing the same air.

“I was in the war. Don’t you remember?”

His words were slow and slightly slurred, his focus not on your conversation. His words sparked something in your mind, but you ignored it. He finally, _finally_ , leaned down and pressed his soft lips to yours.

You let your eyes close and revelled in the gentleness and warmth and comfort of the kiss. Steve was perfect, _perfect._ God, you wanted this. You wanted everything to be okay. You wanted Steve to kiss you like he loved you, in the way that he never would. Then Steve gently tangled a hand in your hair, and you lost all coherent thought.

Your arms raised to loop around his neck, and Steve’s remaining hand curled around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped at the feeling. He took advantage of your open mouth to deepen the kiss, and you moaned softly. You couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t need to breathe, all that mattered was Steve. His lips, his hand in your hair, his arm around your waist. You didn’t care about anything else.

Steve loved you, and you loved Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I said I wasn't going to update, but this chapter was almost finished anyway and I had some spare time. I had SO much fun writing this chapter, even though it didn't turn out how I expected it. This is my longest chapter yet, and I really won't be updating until end of June/July so, this is it for now! Please keep commenting, it makes me unbelievably happy in the middle of all these exams -_- love you all -C xx  
> EDIT: I've updated my pseud (hopefully, sorry if this deletes the entire fic I promise I'll repost) to sebachristian because that's my tumblr and the username didn't suit me etc  
> Also, feel free to message me about anything on tumblr!


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